It Was Late August
by unearthing
Summary: So weak our little Kathryn, falling to pieces like cracked glass. 'Kathryn’s in rehab.' twoshot of the worst kind.
1. Curiouser

_Katherine-Annette in a way. I hope this isn't completely hole-filled. I totally enjoyed writing this, and I hope you will enjoy reading this. Please Review. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own Cruel Intentions._

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_Curiouser and curiouser._

_Little people walk along _

_Little people, running strong _

_Loss of control; fake, your gone. _

'Hello.'

The blonde smiled; she'd never met this certain young woman before, and she appeared very kind.

The girl's brown hair swirled around her shoulders as she turned toward her. She grinned.

'Hello, I'm Kathryn, and you are?'

'Annette. Pleased to meet you.'

Kathryn motioned gracefully towards the settee that sat empty behind them. 'Would you care to join me?'

--

'—Yes, and then we spoke for the longest time! It was really nice to meet someone that I could so easily relate to! I was starting to doubt the diversity of New York socialites.'

Sebastian was intrigued. Who could this woman be that Annette was so entranced with? If she existed, then he _must_ have heard of her. Chaste women were rare, and he'd played with the last of the Upper East side's what seemed like years ago.

'You know? She hates those tweed things Chanel makes as much as I do—'

He hated to interrupt.

'Just a second Annette, did you happen to catch her name in the midst of all of your conversation?'

She smiled at him, pulling her hands from his. Sunlight filtered through the dainty summer curtains.

'Her name was Kathryn, Kathryn Mertuil.'

--

It was late August.

On a street corner, looking more than a bit out of place was a girl; or a woman, a lady most indefinitely (depending how you judge). Shiny chocolate hair smoothed over her shoulders and hazel eyes matched an evergreen dress matched with a wide brimmed sunhat.

One of those cumbersome almost autumn winds blew across the road and the thin little _darling _slightly wished she'd have had the mind to bring a light jacket

Her eyes were trained on a window; if one looked closely you could see people within the encasing room. A man, and a young woman. Fighting, she supposed. The man was moving his hands uncharacteristically (she knew), as if trying desperately to prove a point.

The blonde woman shook her head vehemently, refusing to whatever he had just said.

Their street spectator smiled.

--

'Oooh! I feel just horrible for misleading you, I'm just, so used to it. It's naturally unnatural, it, oh, there's no excuse!' Kathryn paused, sniffling through her hysterics. 'We're such good friends, and I don't want to lose that!'

Annette felt terrible. This poor girl, so drawn and obsessed with the judgments people made, and had devoted her life to giving the illusion of perfection. 'Come on, don't worry about how we differ, you never really wanted to turn out like this anyway; we'll move slowly. I'm here to help as I can!' She put her first two fingers under the crying brunette's chin and lifted her face.

Kathryn let a few more tears fall down her face.

'Oh, thank you, thank you so much! I feel as if I've finally found a true comrade. But now I feel so selfish, Sebastian needs your helps maybe as much as I do?'

The blonde spoke softly. 'Not at the moment.'

Annette was still holding her chin.

Evian blue eyes met the muddy green of Kathryn's and pupils locked.

Full glossed lips met the light pink of Annette's and mouths touched.

Softly.

Warmth and wetness, comfort beyond forgiving friendship.

It was paradise.

--

Sebastian paced. He couldn't understand, Annette was his, wasn't that true? He'd almost loved her, in a non physical sense.

But the feelings of compassion now lay dormant, and confusion reigned supreme.

Sebastian sat. Order was a laughable thing, nothing seemed to organize, and it was frustrating. His mind, his home; where was he home?

--

Could this work for her? All she thinks now disgust at herself. Oooh little bits of fun, like little bits of blood. Like little bits of love, and that everything is redness. She wants to be better than you at something because you do everything.

_Stop it, make it stop, the pain_, she rocked back hands still nestled below her breasts. She hated him,_ loathed_ him, wanted in some way to have his existence ended. He _ruined everything_.

Sweet skeletons in the closet. Little brittle bones and she shakes, pushes her dark hair off her shoulders.

Her cross is empty and her bed is made of needles.

_You breathe, you breathe, you breathe. The air goes in, but it doesn't. Mouth open chest heaving; you can't get enough. You're starving. _

--

Annette sat confused.

She loved him. But then,

then, _Kathryn_.

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_Edited 2.26.2007 This is not my best story (my best are pure fiction) but it holds much sentimental value for me. I reread it lovingly, and hope you do the same. I know the pairing is not my favourite, and probably not yours as well, but it's not so much about the characters as it is the picture of it all. _

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	2. Red

_Because I couldn't resist. I don't think it answers anything really, I just write because I enjoy it. It answers everything if you are asking the right questions, lets say.  
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_Disclaimer: I do not own Cruel Intentions. Lyrics belong to the local band, 'Eliott'  
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_Red laced fears_

_Salt kissed tears_

_She stayed to linger on._

_Because she said to me, sent to me.__  
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_We can never lose_

'Kathryn's in rehab.' Sebastian said suddenly, ruining the silence of a sunshine showered picnic.

Annette lazily opened one eye. 'For what?'

He raised an eyebrow.

The picnic was classical; white and blue checkered cloth, a taupe woven basket, sandwiches and a clear sky.

Annette blanched. 'You're joking. She knows better than to do something as stupid as narcotics!'

Sebastian half smiled as he spoke. 'She hasn't been that smart in a long time Annette.'

She sat up, pushing her back against the tree to support her.

'Oh.'

--

_Long tan fingers tap my left shoulder. Carefully, elegantly, I tilt my head, blonde locks dancing down my shoulders, and nod. _

_Holding my hand out she takes it. Intertwining our fingers, and pulls me upward, till our lips meet in a sound kiss. _

_Softly, so very softly as we part, I stumble, and she caught me as she has done so many times before._

_-- _

It was later, she didn't know how much later, but that didn't matter.

This was messed up. How could she have been so foolish? Maybe, maybe it wasn't her fault; Kathryn fooled everyone, she wasn't special.

But Annette had thought she was.

Annette was angry with Kathryn.

--

Everything was dark.

She saw the obsessive cleanliness, the seemingly tightly controlled atmosphere of her room. She was caught, and through her calm and collected exterior dark emotions were raging war against her conscience.

It's pushed together, crammed, all these words all these feelings all these memories and all of everything in a tiny frame.

Looking upwards at the black square clock on the wall, seven thirty, Kathryn sighed. She stood and shook her head, as if trying to secure her mind inside her skull, but only succeeded in rattling it more.

Clutching her small hand to her chest Kathryn closed her eyes; letting tears slip casually from beneath her eyelids, and feeling the thin jagged path they drew as they softly descended down her pale face.

She felt the loss, the total utter and complete loss. She had no control, couldn't prevent it, and she just couldn't make herself move forward.

She couldn't overcome just this.

--

Light blue pumps _clack clack clacked_ against the smooth stone walkways. The pumps led to stocking clad legs and a matching sky colored dress.

She'd dressed up for this meeting.

Annette nodded gratefully to the boy who held open the door, smiled serenely at the woman standing behind the counter in the lobby in this _fine_ institution.

We're starving.

'If I might have the room number of one Kathryn Mertuil please?' She took her sunhat off her head, holding it between her hands as Annette waited for her reply.

'Yes,' The attendant fingers flew across the keyboard; seconds later: 'yes, Kathryn Mertuil, she is staying here, who are you? And why are you visiting?'

Annette sighed. 'Annette Hargrove, I attend Manchester with her.'

'ID please?'

She rolled her eyes. 'Of course.'

--

Nothing's wrong with _her_. Thank God.

These halls, these hallways were hell.

She didn't bother knocking.

Sterile white, bottomless walls.

What she'd been looking for was on the bed. The brunette was reading, eyes darting across the pages, she tilted her head and looked up at Annette without expression, her hair curtaining her face.

Closing the door behind her, Annette took the most imposing stance she could managed.

'How long?'

'How long what?' Kathryn drawled, unmoving.

-as if they weren't in a rehabilitation centre, as if nothing, nothing was wrong at all.

'How long have you been this way? Cold fooling everyone you can? You're not perfect! This proves it more than anything, anything else ever could!'

She stiffens.

'So you obsess with men! Anyone you flaunt yourself at, you need them to make you feel pretty, to make you _something_. You're weak, you can't stand to be all by yourself. You depend on something unreal, something that might be there forever, outlasting even you? Kathryn, how could you let this happen? You'd die and then you'd disappear. '

Annette continues; stripping Kathryn in an entirely new way.

Kathryn stood.

'I am not weak.' She's losing her precious -so precious- composure. 'I'm not weak! Not like that, _strong me. Kathryn._'

Sad words, little girl.

Annette glared in anger. 'You still haven't answered'

Kathryn's knees buckled and she balanced hands and knees resting on the ground.

'Years.' She whispered in water, pieces of Kathryn fall in those tears crashing down that haunted gaunt face.

It happened so fast.

The little blonde felt guilt.

She leant down, and pulled the tear choking doll into her arms.

Holding.

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